


Into That Goodnight

by Fallen_Empress



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: And I'm sorry for that, Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Moving On, this is very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7616707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Empress/pseuds/Fallen_Empress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two lovers experience loss</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Widower

It started with a cough.

Kuvira had never paid much attention to her health, but after a particularly nasty coughing fit Baatar had begged her to see a healer. She acquiesced, if only to stop his nagging. He stands next to her as she sits on the examination table, nervously rubbing circles on the back of her hand. She rolls her eyes, he's always worried too much over her. But then the healer returns with the results and she has that look, the one that holds a thousand apologies and no answers. It doesn't slip his notice that Kuvira's grip becomes just a little tighter.

\---

They were only given a few months. He hovers around her constantly now, much to her growing annoyance. She sits in the living room, poring over paperwork that needs to be finished before...

"Do you need anything," Baatar asks for the thousandth time.

"No."

"Are you sure? I can make you some tea or--"

"Stop it! You're going to have to learn to get along without me," she snaps, and it's those words that break him. It's those words that force him to realize that there's nothing he can do, nothing he can make that will save _her,_ and he collapses into an armchair weeping. Instantly, he feels her weight in his lap and her arms around his neck. 

"I'm sorry," she whispers over and over as her own silent tears soak into the collar of his shirt. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer, and she curls into him. They stay like that for hours.

\---

In time, they come to accept it. She takes fewer hours at work and he spends as much time with her as possible. She drags him down to the pond where she feeds the turtleducks and sits him down near the water’s edge.

“Make me a promise,” she says as she tosses breadcrumbs into the water.

“Anything.”

“You have to come back here and feed them after I’m gone.” She gestures toward the family of turtleducks eagerly making their way to the treats floating in the pond.

"That's it," he asks, confused.

"We come here every week. It's the one thing we've always made time for. Promise me you'll keep coming back."

"Of course I promise."

She sighs and settles against him while he wraps an arm around her and presses a gentle kiss to her temple.

\---

It's late one night when she comes to him. He's reading in his study, thinking she'd fallen asleep hours ago. He doesn't hear her come in, and starts when he feels her arms slip around his shoulders from behind. She rests her cheek against his and sighs. Smiling, he places a hand over hers.

"Will you dance with me one last time," she whispers. He manages to keep a steady voice when he says yes. He takes a moment to look at her and is startled by how much she's changed in the past few months. Her skin has gotten much paler and she's lost so much weight. He's never seen her look so fragile. He moves toward the record player, and pulls an old record from the shelf. As soon as the soft, jazzy melody starts playing, he sees her eyes light up. 

"Our wedding song," she says, and he swears he can see tears in the corner of her eyes. He pulls her against him, one hand holding hers while the other is draped around her waist. They start slowly; her movements aren’t as fluid as they used to be and he’s afraid to hurt her. They sway to the music, and he attempts to spin her. They both stumble as she loses her balance, but he quickly loops an arm around her waist and stops her from hitting the ground.

“Nowyou learn to catch me,” she says smiling. “Figures.”

Despite everything, they can’t help but laugh, and for a fleeting moment it feels as if everything is going to be okay.

\---

The day he buries her is almost insulting in its beauty. The sun shines brightly overhead as a cool breeze blows gently through the graveyard. The grass was a brilliant green, broken only by the freshly dug grave. She would have loved it. He can still hear her voice in his ear

_How can you spend a day like this inside? Honestly, I wonder how you aren’t paler than I am._

He’s jolted back to the present by the heavy thud of her casket hitting the bottom of the grave. He feels his heart drop to his stomach, and a strangled sob escapes his throat. Opal’s hand comes to his shoulder, but it offers little comfort (because it’s not _her_ hand) and he shrugs it away as he leaves the burial.

\---

In the few weeks after her funeral, he tries his best to move on. Her things are still littered about the house - a jacket carelessly thrown over a chair, shoes lined up by the door- but he can't quite bring himself to move them yet. Opal visits as often as she can, and he finds that it helps. He's rummaging through his fridge when he notices a small bag of breadcrumbs sitting in the door.

_You promised_

He smiles despite the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. _Even in death she's bossing me around,_ he thinks, and it's comforting in a morbid way. He takes the bag down to the pond and sits near the edge of the water. Watching the turtleducks, he lets out a whistle - something she taught him - before opening the bag and tossing some of the breadcrumbs into the water. They come towards him and he smiles, realizing the reason for the promise all those months ago. 

\---

He decides he wants to invite someone the next time he visits the pond, and before he knows it, he's dialing his sister's number. Within a few hours, Opal is there, walking down the path with him.

"It's strange, coming here with other people," he says.

"You two came here often?"

"Every week. It's where we felt the most peaceful. Where we were happiest." They make their way down to the waters edge, but this time there are no turtleducks, so they settle for sitting in the grass. "I think it's why she made me promise to keep coming back."

He feels Opal lean into his shoulder. "She wanted you to remember."

There's a brief pause before Opal speaks again. "I miss her too."

"Really," he asks softly. 

"Of course. I know things were pretty bad between all of us for a while, but she was family."

Opal's visit spurs him to invite the rest of his siblings to join when they can. He enjoys having someone to reminisce with, and it feels good to know he wasn't the only one in his family who loved her. 

_\---_

"I love you."

He stands over her grave, holding a little metal turtleduck he'd made that morning. He bends down to place it on her headstone, before shoving his hands into his pockets. 

"I wish you were still here."

A breeze blows through the graveyard, and it almost feels like she's brushing his cheek. He sighs and fights the urge to cry.

"But I realize that as long as I remember you and how happy we were, you won't really be gone, will you? And knowing that, I can keep going. For you."

 


	2. The Widow

She hadn’t expected him to deteriorate so quickly.

  
She sits next to his hospital bed, watching intently as his chest rises and falls. She can barely hear his shallow breaths, as he fights his own body to keep going. Sighing, she grips his hand tightly.

The phone call had come in the middle of the day. She had been waiting for him to come home for lunch, and she fully expected to hear his voice on the other end apologizing for being late and if she would just give him five more minutes (she always did). Instead, there was a woman’s voice and Kuvira only manages to catch the words _accident_ and _hospital_ before she demands to know where he is.

The explosion had been in the lab across from his. Something to do with chemicals and explosives, they’d said. Kuvira was sure they had given her more details, but she had been too overwhelmed to take all of it in. The doctors said something about inhalation and not knowing how to counteract the chemical, then they gave her a sympathetic look and said the most devastating words she would ever hear: _we’ll make him as comfortable as possible._

 

She wants him to wake up. She wants him to look at her with that smile, the one that makes her feel like the most important person in the world. She registers the shuffling of feet behind her and knows that his siblings have come to bid their farewells. She does not move as they approach the bed, never taking her focus from him. Suddenly, his hand tightens around hers and she feels a faint glimmer of hope.

“Can you hear me,” she whispers. “Can you hear us?”  
The only response she receives is a light squeeze, but it is more than enough to spur her on.

“I love you,” she breathes. “I’ve always loved you, you know that.”

His breathing quickens, as if he wants to say something, but then his hand goes slack and his chest stills and the steady tone of the machines tells her everything she does not want to know. It takes all of her willpower to hold back her tears as she stands to find a nurse. She hears someone call her name, but she cannot bear the thought of going back.

\---

She stands alone when they bury him. The day is mild and cloudy and she shuts her eyes, remembering how he would convince her to stay inside with him on days like this. His siblings stand on the opposite side of the grave, huddled together in comfort. She does not join them, will not seek out their sympathy because they are his family, not hers, and she must learn to get along by herself now. Her face remains an impassive mask, and she realizes that she has not cried since that final day in the hospital.

\---

She returns to their house alone. The silence is heavy and suffocating, and she is tired (has she slept since the hospital? She can’t remember), but when she enters their bedroom, she stops short. The bed looks too big now, too empty to sleep in. She can’t bring herself to lie down, knowing that she’ll never again feel his weight as he gently slips into bed beside her. Instead, she pulls a blanket from the closet and wanders back into the living room. She is instinctively drawn to his armchair, and as she curls in it she catches a hint of his cologne. Pulling the blanket tightly around her shoulders, she finally allows herself to grieve.

\---

Opal and Bolin are the first to come see her. She knows why they’ve come; she hasn’t answered the phone in weeks, and letters have been piling up by the door since the burial. Out of politeness and obligation, she invites them in. She hopes that their visit will be short because she is tired of the condolences and concern from others. They hover around her, asking her too many questions (When did you last eat? Have you been sleeping?) and she knows that they can tell she isn’t taking care of herself. Opal guides her to the couch and begins tidying up what she can, while Bolin rifles through the kitchen and tries his best to make a meal out of the meager remnants of food Kuvira has left. She eats, though she can’t manage much, and they smile at her. They put her to bed and she does not fight them, her mind and body too exhausted to try. In the quiet darkness of the room, she realizes that this is the first time she has slept in their bed alone.

 

Morning finally comes and part of her is grateful that she has a reason to leave the bedroom. She walks into the living room to find Opal and Bolin curled against each other on the couch, contented smiles on their faces. It’s as if they’ve driven a knife into her heart. She is suddenly reminded of all the times she and Baatar had laid like that and how she’ll never have that again. A strangled sob rips its way out of her throat and it jolts them awake. She does not hide her grief quickly enough because they pull apart, and before she realizes it, Opal’s arms are around her holding her tightly.

 

They leave later that afternoon. Bolin pulls her in for a hug, and she finds that she does not protest it.

“Promise you’ll call,” Opal asks. Kuvira promises, but she does not know if she will keep it.

\---

There is only a week of respite before the Avatar comes to see her. She supposes that she should have expected it; Opal must have spoken to her as soon as they left. She sees that Avatar Korra has brought her wife, Miss Sato (or is it Mrs.? Kuvira finds she doesn't much care anymore) and waves them both inside.

"Why are you here," Kuvira asks.

Korra and Asami glance at each other before Korra replies.

"We wanted to see how you were doing-"

A spark of anger suddenly ignites. She is  _tired_ of people asking her that, of telling everyone she was fine when she clearly was not, and Kuvira finally snaps.

"How do you _think_ I'm doing," she spits. " _My_ husband is gone! All of you keep bothering me, coming here with _your_ husbands and wives, as if you're helping! You think the best thing is to 'move on', but _I don't want to!_ "

She storms off toward their bedroom and slams the door shut, leaving her guests in stunned silence.

 _You're acting like a petulant child,_ a voice chides. His voice. She collapses onto the bed and curls into a ball under the covers.

 _Well, you're dead_ , she thinks. _I can act however I want_.

 

She wakes hours later, feeling guilty and embarrassed. Opening the door to the bedroom, she sees Korra meditating on the floor of her living room while Asami boils tea. Both women turn to look at her as she enters the room.

"I apologize for my behavior earlier," Kuvira says, wanting to get her apologies out of the way. Korra smiles, a look of understanding on her face.

"It's fine," the younger woman says. "I get the feeling that you've been building that up for a while."

Kuvira sighs and sits in his armchair. "I'm tired, Korra," she says after a moment. "Everything takes so much effort now."

To Kuvira's surprise, Asami speaks.

"I understand how you feel. Losing someone you love feels like losing a part of yourself." She walks from the kitchen and kneels by the armchair, placing a hand over Kuvira's. "Greivng for that lost part is fine, but you can't wallow in it. And know that you don't have to grieve alone. That's why we're here."

\---

Kuvira decides to listen to Asami's advice. She forces herself to call Opal (who sounds more relieved than Kuvira expected) and prepares to endure more visits from each of the Beifong siblings.

 

Huan' s visit starts quietly, and mostly involves her watching him draw a recreation of the garden. Eventually, they wander into Baatar's old den where Huan finds a sketchbook full of unfinished drawings of his family.

"My brother was talented," he says, and Kuvira isn't sure if he's speaking to himself or her. He closes the notebook only to open another, studying the one common interest they shared. "We used to draw together, you know," he continues. "He preferred machinery over the abstract, but you were a common subject too."

Kuvira smiles for what feels like the first time in ages.

 

The twins make their visit late in the afternoon, and Kuvira has to force herself to be pleasant. They all sit in painful silence, and she realizes that they are just as bad at handling this as she is.

"Fight me," she says as she stands suddenly.

"What," they ask in unison.

"Talking isn't - we've never been good at that. It isn't what we do. Sparring is what's always been comfortable for us."

She doesn't wait for them as she strides into the yard, but when she turns around, they're there, ready and waiting. Kuvira throws the first volley, and before they know it, they fall back into their old rhythm. Boulders sail through the air and each of them releases the pent up grief and anger they've held onto for so long. Soon, her body is sore and tired, reminding her that she isn't as young as she once was. She collapses to her knees and yields to them for the first time since they were children. She looks up and sees both of them holding a hand out to her; they pull her up and into a tight hug, and this time, they find comfort in the silence, filled with all of the things they can't bring themselves to say.

\---

"I suppose it does get easier," she says to his grave.

It's a cold, gray morning and she's alone, preferring to visit when she knows there will be few interruptions. She kneels and places a metal panda lily - a gift he made her long ago - next to the other mementos his family has left. She runs her fingers over his name, feeling the indent of each letter.

"I still miss you, but I can think about us without falling apart now. You loved me when I thought no one could, and you left me with a family I never believed I could have." She wiped a tear away and smiled. "Thank you. For everything."


End file.
